It had been four months since the sunrise on the balcony. Four months of University classes, new friends, separate schedules, and their first real fight (over whose turn it was to wash the rice cooker). The "7-Eleven Rivals" of Sunrise Heights were officially established cohabitants, though they’d kept their weekend shifts because, as Rentaro argued, "Tanaka-san’s discount coffee is too good to leave behind."
The studio apartment was less of a maze of boxes now. They had shelves (properly aligned by Rika) that housed an uneasy truce of engineering blueprints and advanced theoretical textbooks.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Rika was deep into a chapter on Quantum Entanglement when the front door clicked open. Rentaro walked in, carrying his shoulder bag and a small, brightly colored shopping bag from Akihabara.
"I have something in the 'Incoming' queue," Rentaro said, a slight flush on his cheeks.
Rika set down her pen, raising an eyebrow. "Is it inventory? Because we’re already at maximum capacity for instant ramen."
"It’s better than ramen," he said, setting the bag on her desk. "I saw it at that specialty shop, and... well, I just had to get it."
Rika reached into the bag and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in transparent plastic. It was a figma of Lizbeth from Sword Art Online, specifically in her master blacksmith’s white and red apron.
Rika blinked. She had spent a year surrounded by Rentaro’s figures, but this was the first one she actually owned. She turned the box over, examining the detail. "Lizbeth... the blacksmith?"
She looked up at Rentaro, who was leaning against the doorway of the tiny kitchen, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "She’s a supporting character, isn't she? Not the 'main protagonist.' Why did you buy me her?"
Rentaro walked over, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Everyone looks at Sword Art Online and sees Kirito or Asuna—the 'prodigies.' The 'God-Tier' players. People only notice Lizbeth when they need their gear fixed."
He reached out and traced the edge of the figure box. "But Lizbeth is the only reason the protagonist survives. She doesn't just 'use' the system; she understands the mechanics of the world. She’s the one who provides the support structure, who crafts the actual foundation everyone else takes for granted."
Rika stared at him, the realization washing over her.
"Before you started working the graveyard shift," Rentaro said softly, looking at the figure, "everyone at school just saw the 'Ice Queen Prodigy.' They didn't see the girl who actually did the hours, who understood the mechanics, who provided the logic. You were the foundation. People only came to you when they 'needed something fixed.' I didn't want to buy you Asuna, because she’s a projection. Lizbeth is real."
Rika felt the same lump in her throat she had felt when he fastened the star necklace. He wasn't giving her a piece of anime plastic. He was giving her validation.
"You really think I’m like her?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Not exactly. You’re less loud," he smirked, but then his expression softened. "And there’s one other reason. Look at the box. Look at her 'Civilian' name."
Rika turned the box around, looking at the tiny profile text in Japanese. Her eyes widened.
Character Name: Lisbeth (リズベット)
Real Name: Shinozaki Rika (篠崎 里香)
Rika dropped the box onto her desk with a soft thwack. She stood up and stared at the figure, then at Rentaro. "Her name... it’s the same as mine. Down to the kanji?"
"The very same," Rentaro confirmed, pulling her into an embrace. "It felt like a statistical anomaly I couldn't ignore."
Rika laughed, the sound warm and genuine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder. For years, her name had felt like a burden—the name of a failed legacy. But now, it was just the name of a loyal friend, a master crafter, and a girl who loved a boy with messy hair.
"Thank you, Rentaro," she whispered, squeezing him tight. "I’ll clear a shelf for her."
"Accepting the delivery?"
"Accepting," she said, pulling away just enough to look at him, the silver star at her throat catching the apartment light. "And closing the final inventory."
THE (REAL) END.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9a0CiwkFBU
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